How Jeff Bridges Fell in Love With a Girl Named Sue

This famous Hollywood actor shares how he fell hard — and keeps falling — for his wife of 35 years.

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I met my wife, Susan, in 1975, while making Rancho Deluxe in Montana. We were shooting a scene in the hot tub at a place called Chico Hot Springs when I saw this girl. I couldn't take my eyes off her. Not only was she gorgeous, but she had two black eyes and a recently broken nose (from a car accident, I later learned). Something about her beauty and disfigurement kept me riveted. Every time I snuck a peek, she'd catch me. After work, I got up the courage to ask her, "Would you like to go out with me?" She said no. I asked her again, and she said, "No — it's a small town; maybe we'll run into each other later." Those words proved to be prophetic, and one night in town we danced, and I fell in love.

The next day, I had a meeting scheduled with a local real estate agent who was going to show me some property, and I invited Sue to come along. That was our official first date. We went to look at a ranch house on the river. As we were walking around, there was a voice in my head: You are now looking at a house with your future wife. And I thought, Oh, no, let me outta here. I felt cornered, not by Sue but by myself. I couldn't bear to let the love of my life slip through my fingers, but at the same time I was afraid of declaring, "This is the one!" I was crazy in love, but I came from such great parents and didn't know if either Sue or I had that in us.

Mostly the issue was losing my freedom. After two years of ambivalence, I finally got up the courage to ask Sue to marry me, with the secret assurance in mind that I could always get a divorce. Thank God I finally got with the program. It's true, you close one door, but the door you open is a long hallway lined with more incredible doors — like children, grandchildren, deeper intimacy with your wife, and so many other things that would not be available to you without marriage. Frightening as it was for me, there was also the sense of deeply opening my heart.

I've learned so much from Sue. She points out ways that I defeat myself, and I do the same for her. For instance, I'm often frightened of getting involved in new projects. And Sue will remind me, "Hey, you always get like this when you're asked to do something new." And I'll say, "You're right; that's just what I do."

It's a simple thing. She shows me another way of looking at something. We've been doing this so long, and we care for each other so much, that our relationship is the most precious thing for both of us.

We do have one ancient war, which runs: You just don't get me; you don't know me; you don't understand. It's true. I don't entirely know Sue; I never will, and she won't know me, really. But with each battle, we come closer to realizing that this "not knowing" is what we have in common. We know we'll experience our stuff, have tough times, but we're doing it together.

Having fought this out for 35 years, I now find that when conflict raises its head, I feel: Great, now we get to love each other even more.

Jeff Bridges is an Academy Award-winning actor and author (with Bernie Glassman) of the book The Dude and the Zen Master, from which this essay is adapted.